


Myths and Legends: The Sequel

by kronette



Category: Highlander: The Series, Relic Hunter
Genre: Episode: s01e18 The Last Knight, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-10 13:52:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17427131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kronette/pseuds/kronette
Summary: Yep, the sequel to the story that literally no one asked for, but I had a few ideas in my head and this one won out. The future isn't always what we believe it will be, and sometimes the universe surprises us.Read Myths and Legends firstThis is also a belated birthday present for Alix Sinclair, who has never failed to encourage my insane writing.





	Myths and Legends: The Sequel

_August 8, 2104_

Methos ordered the automatic shower off and the dryer on, shivering as the water cooled on his skin. 

He continued to shiver as he got dressed, only then realizing that the cold wasn’t from outside, but within. 

Today he started his new position at the Watchers. With Immortals no longer a secret, the Watcher organization had expanded and grown as the sole resource of history. Scholars from all over the world came to them with queries and theories, and the Watchers whored out their information by the hour. 

It was offensive, but information was the true currency and Methos was about to lead the world’s greatest repository. 

Immortals had protested and lost the fight against the National Registry, a horrifying recreation of an ancient movie plot Methos barely remembered, but sympathized with. 

At least they hadn’t been forced to tattoo numbers on their arms. Their unchanging faces were identification enough since body enhancements had been outlawed twenty years ago, ending the plastic surgery industry and all its fringe pharmacological businesses. 

All the major cities had designated challenge areas for two combatant Immortals, which Methos despised and hoped to get that law overturned in his eight-year tenure. Immortal challenges had rarely drawn innocents into the fray, but the ‘protect mortals’ propaganda had been running strong the past few years and had finally won out. Challenges were nothing more than spectator sport, a throwback to the Roman gladiators performing for the public. 

At least money wasn’t exchanged for viewing a challenge. Yet. 

A soft chime sounded throughout the apartment—his appointment reminder. With a weary sigh, he pulled on his trenchcoat and checked his sword before stepping out into the misty air. 

Most of old Paris was gone, but the Eiffel Tower remained a beacon of stability and hope in a chaotic world. He headed in its general direction, the apartment just a few blocks from the Watcher Headquarters, the perk of being the new Head of Research. 

A far cry from his days as the sole Methos Researcher, he had managed to keep his true identity secret, forever from 27 years ago known as Adam Beckett. 

When the internal cameras picked up his identity, he imagined he could hear the chimes going off in the offices several stories above him. An Immortal couldn’t walk into Watcher Headquarters any more without being recognized, though Methos was a notable guest that day that everyone wanted to see.

The swearing in ceremony would be thankfully brief and bloodless, a vast improvement over other brotherhoods Methos had joined over the centuries. He stopped at the handprint screen, counting down the minutes until his day would be interrupted and wondering just how pleasant it would be. 

He passed through the rest of the screening process, necessary but tiresome if he was to actually make it to the swearing in later that morning. For all the technological advances of the past 50 years, paperwork was still paperwork, even if it was dozens of screens rather than actual paper to read and initial. 

Bored out of his mind two hours later, he was beginning to wish he hadn’t moved up the alarm by an hour. He’d thought it clever last night, but now he was cursing his self-sabotage. 

Thankfully, blessedly, the buzz of another Immortal cut through the droning of the video he was supposed to be analyzing. As it drew nearer, he stood up and walked to the window, allowing a small smirk as he could now feel the outraged indignation of his lover. 

He expected to be spun around and thoroughly kissed good morning; what he hadn’t expected was the firm smack to his backside and the annoyed blue-green glare his lover bestowed on him. 

“How _dare_ you almost make me miss your ceremony,” Michel hissed before yanking him close and sealing their mouths together, Methos delighting in the hard edges of Michel’s teeth against his lips. It was punishing and loving and was making Methos question his sanity that he had left Michel sleeping in their bed rather than wake him for this. 

He didn’t really notice the gentle nudging until he was unceremoniously shoved into his chair, rolling backward a few inches before he could stop it. Michel had a wild look in his eye, the one that said Methos was going to pay and pay dearly. 

Methos didn’t have time to brace himself before Michel was in his lap, mouth devouring and hands making short work of their fasteners. Michel’s beard scratched at his cheeks and throat, the burn a pleasant reminder of passionate nights spent lost in each other. 

“Privacy lock,” he managed to call out when his mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied, waiting for the hissing seal of his door before launching them out of the chair and pressing Michel into the hard edge of his desk. The flash of pain and pleasure that immediately crossed Michel’s features stilled his hands. 

The subtle shift of Michel’s hips, his half-closed eyes and then the low moan that escaped his swollen, parted lips had Methos’ pulse racing as he guessed what Michel had done. “You were going to wake me with a surprise this morning, weren’t you?” he purred in Michel’s ear, letting his fingers glide over the firm thighs. 

Heavy-lidded, lust-filled eyes tried to pierce him with their anger, but a building need was quickly overtaking Michel, his labored breathing matched by Methos. 

“How do you want me?” Methos asked as he pushed their pants to the floor, exposing their overheated flesh to the always-temperate air. 

Michel was rolling his ass against the table, his gaze already losing focus. “Chair,” he choked out, clenching a fist in Methos’ shirt to steady himself. 

Methos quickly sat down at the edge of his chair and guided Michel to his lap, one hand on Michel’s hip to steady him while the other twisted the lubrication toy that Michel had placed inside himself. 

Michel’s expression of pure abandon had Methos sucking at Michel’s throat, Michel’s entire body bowed back as he tried to work the toy in deeper, dangerously balanced on Methos’ legs. 

With one last biting kiss, Methos hooking his arms underneath Michel’s arms and turned him around. Michel’s hands clamped down on the arms of the chair to steady himself as Methos replaced the toy with his dick, all the breath leaving him as Michel began to sink down. 

Their coupling was fast and dirty, Michel too strung out from his walk to the building and Methos pulled under by the sounds, the smells, the taste, the way Michel’s body undulated beneath his stroking hand. 

Michel came first with shaking thighs, his body growing heavier as he came down from his orgasm. Methos braced his feet on the floor and slammed their bodies together, the warm weight of his satisfied lover _not enough_. 

With an undignified sound lost in the sweat-damp skin of Michel’s neck, Methos nearly slid them both onto the floor with the force of his orgasm. It was only Michel’s hands gripping the chair that kept them from painful injury. 

Their sharp, harsh breaths were the only sound in the room, Michel’s caressing fingers in Methos’ hair as Methos nuzzled the marks that were already fading on Michel’s neck. They were stretched out uncomfortably in the chair, their bodies sticking together with sweat. 

Michel turned his head, brushing his nose against Methos’ cheek. “I love you,” he murmured, lips brushing Methos’ skin. 

Methos turned Michel slightly until they could properly kiss, a tender moment to offset the terrible _need_ that had overtaken them. 

It had been an agonizing forty-three-year separation, with Methos traveling and living in the Far East, while Michel and Angela enjoyed their married life. A year after Angela passed away, having learned her husband was an Immortal when they were both to have turned 40 but choosing to stay with him, Michel had gone in search of Methos. It had taken Michel almost eight months to find him, unable to rely on his Immortal friends to find the myth known as Methos. 

Their reunion was bittersweet; Methos’ heart had finally mended and Michel’s had just shattered, leaving them awkward and unsure around each other. Michel was still in mourning and Methos had to learn to trust again, but finally, they were both ready and they both had what they wanted. 

Next year was their fortieth wedding anniversary and they had planned a six-month tour of the Incan Empire. Michel’s studies had naturally expanded to ancient civilizations and with Methos’ stories to enrich his education, Michel had grown fascinated with the Inca. It was a part of the world Michel hadn’t been to yet and it had been over four hundred years for Methos, so it would be a new experience for them both. 

Methos kissed Michel until they were both breathless again. “I love you,” Methos whispered against Michel’s lips, enjoying the fluttery feeling in his chest as Michel kissed him again. 

“I hope you have something to clean me up, because I’m feeling rather disreputable with your dick in my ass,” Michel teased, his eyes sparkling with affection. 

“Better my dick than that poor substitute,” Methos drawled with a kiss to Michel’s nose before helping him to stand. They kissed lazily as they cleaned up, neither wanting to lose the closeness they had just shared. 

Methos watched with some trepidation as Michel picked up the toy and placed it in his desk with a challenging look. “For after the ceremony,” Michel assured him with a wicked grin. “Dinner has already been programmed but I want you for dessert.” 

Methos ran his hands down Michel’s back, over the curve of his ass and back up to settle on his hips. “That can be arranged,” he said, leaning in for another kiss. 

The appointment chime sounded in his office, causing both men to groan. Michel rested their foreheads together, his smile somehow both proud and resigned. “I suppose it’s time to share you with the world,” he lamented. 

Methos didn’t know where it came from, but the lighthearted mood vanished under a blanket of seriousness that Michel instantly picked up on. “The world will never know me. Only you will ever have that privilege.” 

Tears stood in Michel’s eyes as he fidgeted with Methos’ shirt collar. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he whispered, half-afraid and half-hopeful. 

“I never do,” Methos said as he swept Michel up in a passionate kiss, returned with equal fervor. 

The chime sounded again and reluctantly, they separated and straightened their clothes. Michel fussed with Methos’ jacket, brushing away lint and trying to smooth wrinkles that would vanish on their own in a few minutes. 

Methos grasped Michel’s nervously twitching fingers and brought them to his lips, kissing each knuckle, though Michel’s gaze remained worried. “The world already knows who we are. There’s nothing that can happen today that hasn’t already happened to me in a past life. Today, I get to try to make the world a better place for us.” 

Michel studied him earnestly, then broke into a happy grin. “You aren’t talking about other Immortals,” he stated breathlessly. “You’re talking about _us_.” 

“I’ve cared more for humanity than I ever cared for Immortals, with very few exceptions,” Methos replied, relinquishing one of Michel’s hands but holding onto the other as he called for the door to unlock. “And I’ve only ever loved one Immortal.” 

Challenges, heartbreak, fights, separations; it was all rendered meaningless as Michel kissed him with such tenderness, it brought tears to his eyes. “I could say the same, but it means so much more from you. If I could, I’d ask you to marry me again.” 

Methos kept his expression neutral, but his stomach flipped at Michel’s words. Michel _couldn’t_ know that he’d planned a vow renewal ceremony during their stay in Cusco next year. He chuckled to disguise his nervousness. “I asked you to marry _me_ , old man, or is your memory failing you already?” he teased, leading Michel out of his office and down the hall to the large theater. 

The hard squeeze to his hand signaled that he’d pushed too far. “I don’t know how you can remember even one language with your _extensive_ history,” Michel replied lightly, a hint of danger in his tone. 

Methos steered Michel away from the doors to the theater, pressing him against the wall and restraining himself to only a light kiss. “After dessert tonight, I will recite all the words of all the languages I can remember onto your skin,” he murmured. 

Michel hummed his approval, his eyes sparking with renewed hunger. “That could take awhile. A week, perhaps two?” 

Methos only smiled and escorted Michel into the theater, where they shared one last, lingering kiss before Methos was guided to his seat of honor on the stage, to await the latest change to his life. 

The End


End file.
